Resistance
by Anjin Silversong
Summary: Disney like you've never seen it before. There's no real way to explain it, just read and enjoy. And respond.
1. Prologue

**Prologue – Nocturne**

_"The rhythm of the city, boy once you get it down, you can own this town…"_

The stillness of the night was interrupted by a sound. It rose up above the moaning of the wind, piercing through the darkness and gloom like a bright needle. After a few moments the sound paused, then picked up again, becoming a song. This song drifted in and out of the dark alleys and buildings of the town like a lost soul, its forlorn melody weaving itself into the dreams of the sleeping inhabitants of the city.

The music came from a flute.

A flute played by a young boy.

The boy played with his eyes closed, sitting in a relaxed position on the railing of the orphanage's patio which overlooked the silent city. The night air was cold, and the boy shivered every few moments, as he was wearing little besides some thin pajamas, but he didn't seem to mind, or even notice. His nocturne continued uninterrupted until he heard the sliding glass door that led to the patio being slid open. 

            The flute was lowered, and the boy turned to regard the man who stood yawning in the doorway. Shaking himself once, as if fighting to stay awake, the man returned the child's gaze. Finally, the boy spoke, turning his gaze away from the adult. "Evening…"

"And just how long did you plan on staying out tonight? Hm? God knows why you haven't already caught your death, staying out late in the cold like this every night." The man cut him off, placing his hands on his hips in the pose that the children often referred to as the 'nursemaid stance'. The boy turned his gaze back for a moment, then looked out at the city again while he replied.

"The others have gotten used to it. Some of the younger ones won't fall asleep unless they hear me playing."

"Well, quite the Good Samaritan, aren't you? And what happens when you get arrested for disturbing the peace? The City Watch doesn't need too much reason to come here and take you away; they're always looking for an excuse."

The boy shrugged, and slid his flute into a case, hopping down off the railing. "Let them come…" he murmured, and slid open the door. He was confronted by a young girl about his age, which was in the process of yawning and rubbing her eyes. The man, having turned and seen her, sighed. "You too? Did someone just decide to dump all the insomniac children of the city at my place? What's _your _excuse, young miss?"

            The girl looked between the boy and the man for a few moments before answering in a tired voice. "I had the dream again. The one where it's all dark…"

The boy folded his arms. "So? You have that dream every other night, and you usually sleep through it. What's so important about it this time?"

This time it took the girl even longer to answer, as she seemed to struggle within herself, looking for the proper way to describe what she had seen. Finally, she spoke, clasping her hands restlessly as tried to convey the feeling of the dream into words. "The darkness… went away. There was this star, and it started shining really bright, and finally it just took the place of the darkness. It made me feel good, and I just couldn't sleep anymore, I was so happy."

The boy blinked, and exchanged a glance with the man. The man shrugged and ruffled the girl's hair. "Well, I guess we'll just have to see what happens, your dreams haven't been wrong yet. However, I don't think it'll resolve itself tonight, so I suggest you two go back to bed." This said, he placed a hand on each child and scooted them towards the door. The girl nodded sleepily and entered, though the boy resisted a bit. "I wasn't done with my song!" he protested, but the man just shook his head. "It's time for you to go to sleep. I was told to watch over you and I intend to do so. Good night, Oliver, Kiara." The boy finally gave in and said, in chorus with the girl, "Good night, Uncle Zazu."

The city slept… but dawn was on its way.


	2. Chapter One Simba

Chapter One – Simba

"I'm gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware…"

****

Thomas O'Malley lowered the newspaper he was reading and looked over the top of it at Dodger, perking one eyebrow. "Dead? A whole patrol? That's crazy talk, Dodge. City Guards are the only people in the whole town that are allowed to carry guns. How would anyone even attack them?"

"It wasn't done with a gun, Tom!" Dodger interjected, eyes bright with excitement. "They say the Guards were cut up! Whatever the guy did it with, it was a bladed weapon!" Leaning back, the street-wise reporter adjusted his dark glasses, beaming in admiration. Thomas sighed and laid down the paper, shaking his head. "I'm telling you, Dodge, don't make a big deal out of this. It's just some psycho. People around these parts don't even know what the word 'revolution' means. Scar's got their minds locked down. It's been that way for years."

"Yeah, but what if it _was_ someone fighting for freedom? Eh? I gotta find this guy and talk with him! It'll be the greatest story ever!"

Thomas, a well-learned gambler, waved his friends exultations away with one hand. "Don't place your bets on this guy yet, Dodge. That's all I'm saying."

            Dodger grunted in acknowledgement as a waitress approached and set a pot of coffee on the table between the two. This done, she leaned over Thomas's shoulder, scanning the newspaper. "Anything important happening Tom?"

"Nothing they'd write in the newspaper… but, Nala, you gotta hear this." Dodger spoke up, before Thomas could reply. "Some guy slashed up a whole…"

"You don't even know if it was a single guy yet, Dodge." This time it was Thomas's turn to cut his friend off. The pretty waitress tipped Dodger a wink, laughing, "Chasing stories again, Dodge? Just be careful you don't get yourself into trouble, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah." Once again Dodger waved a carefree hand as if to dispel his friends' worries from the air. "I just want to get to the bottom of it, alright?"

            Oliver made a moaning noise as he took another bite at the toast he was eating. "I don't see why I have to go to school still." He mumbled around the food. "It's not like they can teach me anything. I could learn math faster on my own and, as for history… I already _know _how to play pretend, thank you."

Zazu had to smile at this revolutionist statement, though he agreed with it wholeheartedly. In an attempt to sway the children of the city to his side Scar had ordered all true histories to be burned, and new ones written naming him as the Immortal Emperor who had ruled the city since before the dawn of time. It truly was laughable. However, the middle-aged owner of the orphanage knew the harsh penalties assigned to children who attempted to skip school, so he aimed for the young boy's weak point. "Kiara never misses a day of school… could you really trust her safety with the kids at your school?"

This had the desired effect on Oliver, who shot Zazu a glare and resignedly turned his attention to his toast.

            After they had finished breakfast Oliver and Kiara, along with the other children of the orphanage, left for school. Or, rather, they were about to when something on the path to the street stopped them, and one of the girls screamed. Zazu came running out of the house to see what was the matter and screeched to a halt, his jaw dropping. In the middle of the small walk that led up to the orphanage there was a dark form lying stretched out on the ground, a small puddle of red slowly leaking from it. Quickly telling the children to go back inside, he rushed over and turned the form over. It was a boy in his late-teens, probably around 18. He had two minor shot wounds, as well as lots of scratches and scrapes. Lifting him up, Zazu called out to the house. "Bernard! Bernard! Bring some bandages!"

            Once he had brought the youth inside the orphanage, Zazu sat back to take a better look at the boy while his assistant bandaged him. The boy was fair-haired, though his long mane of hair was dirty and tangled. His build was slight but lithe, and the boy gave off an aura of strength, even comatose. He was dressed in torn black clothes… and he had a sword hilt hanging from a chain around his neck. This caught Zazu's eye, and he studied the hilt curiously. It was just a simple thing, with no decorations, and the small bit of blade attached to it was broken off after only an inch or two.

            Suddenly, the boy stirred and both Bernard and Zazu backed away instinctively. Opening his eyes, the youth regarded them both groggily as he struggled to focus. Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke. His voice surprised Zazu, for it was powerful even in it's softness… like steel feathers… "I'll say this only once; you shouldn't have brought me into your home. I am a hunted person, and you will only bring disaster upon yourselves by aiding me."

This statement astounded both of the caretakers so much that they remained speechless for a few moments. Finally, Zazu dug up a reply. "D… Don't worry about it. We're used to picking up strays, no matter what kind of past they have. Who… who are you? Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine." The youth said, standing. Once on his feet he swayed a bit, but managed to remain upright. "As for who I am… my name would mean nothing to you."

Once again the boy's cryptic way of speaking mystified the two, and they exchanged a glance. They were just about to express their confusion to the boy when he suddenly spun around, and they saw that he was looking at Kiara, who had just entered the room.

            There was a long silence, which was finally broken by the young girl. "You're the one! The star I saw in my dream! Only… your sword wasn't broken then…"

"It was you, then." The young man murmured, looking thoughtful. "A voice called out to me in the night, and I've felt something pulling me ever since I entered this city… It must have been you."

Kiara grinned and nodded. "My name's Kiara! What's yours? Where are you from?"

The stranger regarded her for a moment, and then replied. "My name is Simba… I'm afraid that's the only one of your questions I can answer. As for my sword… it has always been broken… and, at the same time, even now it is not broken."

"Not… broken? I don't understand…" Kiara tilted her head in confusion, looking at the hilt from several angles. As she did a loud knocking came from the door, causing everyone to turn his or her head. Simba sighed and pulled the broken sword off of its chain, gripping the hilt in his hands. "I told you this would bring trouble…" Zazu, mystified entirely by this, went to open the door. Standing on the porch was a burly City Guard, his pistol in hand. At the sight of Simba, he raised his gun and shouted. "It's you! We've been getting reports of a stranger dressed in black wandering through the town. You must have been the one who took out that patrol… with that sword!" Having made his declaration, the guard aimed the pistol at Simba's heart.

            Springing forward, Simba flew into a flying tackle, knocking the guard backwards out of the house. Rolling to his feet the youth pointed his broken sword at the man, who was trying to stand up, and Zazu had to blink to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. The sword was whole! The blade, fully as long as Simba was tall, shone brilliantly in the sun. Simba kept it still only for a moment before plunging it through the unfortunate man's throat. The guard gave a gurgle and fell backward. Pulling the shining blade free, Simba executed a half-turn, making a bright crescent in the air with the blade. There was a thud, and Zazu drew in a sharp breath. A guard had appeared behind Simba as the boy was dispatching his first opponent. However, when this man tried to raise his gun it simply fell apart in halves! Simba's arc had cut right through the weapon! Seeing this the guard gave a short cry, which was cut off as Simba executed him with a flick of the blade. Three moves, that's all it took.

            Turning to look at Zazu, who had forgotten to breathe, Simba wiped his blade off on a rag. "You see what I mean now? I'm bad news. Help me clean up these bodies and I'll be on my way without bothering you any more." The caretaker nodded dumbly and moved to help. As he did so he saw Simba lift the broken sword up and drape it around his neck on the chain once more. So it was broken again, now… but it had been whole for a moment, Zazu was sure his eyes hadn't deceived him. Besides that, the two dead bodies were a testimony to the truth of it. 

            After they had disposed of the bodies, Zazu saw Simba to the gate. Once there he paused, and looked at the ground. Simba turned to him and arched an eyebrow. "Something the matter?" 

"W…Who are you really? And why are you here?" Zazu stammered, almost afraid of what the boy would answer. Simba took a while before answering, and when he did there was a grave tone to his voice. "Tell that little one that I _am _the star in the darkness. I am the son of Mufasa, the King of this land. Scar undercut my father's power and overthrew him, taking the throne for himself. I have come to reclaim that throne… for I am now the rightful King." This said, he turned… and left.


	3. Chapter Two Oliver

Chapter Two – Oliver

_"I'm street wise, I can improvise… I'm street smart, I got New York City heart."_

Nala's part-time job at the diner ended roughly the same time as the grade school got out, so she always made it a point to get back to the orphanage quickly so she could see her younger sister getting home. She and Kiara had been living at the orphanage ever since their mother had passed away, broken down by the burden of raising two children alone in the dystopia created by Scar's reign.

            Stifling a yawn with the back of one hand, she leaned against the fence in front of the orphanage. Working two jobs, one at day and one at night, was starting to take its toll. Not that she could quit… Kiara wasn't the only one in the orphanage who relied on that money. Oh well… she could hold out a little longer; sleep was over-rated.

            The sound of someone approaching from behind caused Nala to turn. It was Bernard, the only other adult besides Zazu in the orphanage. He gave his watch a perplexed look, turned to look down the street a bit, then turned a worried gaze to Nala.

"They're not usually this late…" he mused, scratching his head and looking at his watch again. 

"Nala… did Kiara mention a school trip or something?"

Shaking her head, Nala mirrored Bernard's worried frown.

"Bernaaaaaaard! Nalaaaa!"

A young voice, raised in a hysteric yell, caused them both to whip their heads around. It was Oliver, running full tilt. He practically slammed into Nala, clinging to her and pressing his face into her chest. It took her a moment to realize he was sobbing, hard. Looking up from his shuddering form, Nala exchanged a look with Bernard; Oliver never cried.

            Pulling Oliver away a little, Nala crouched to his eye-level, holding his shoulders.

"Oliver… what happened?"

Through his tears, the boy choked out the story:

"The City Guard… came in a… a black car and… and th…. They… they had guns… and they… took Kiara away."

This last piece was spoken in no more than a whisper, but it struck Nala like a knife through her heart. She felt a cold emptiness spreading through her limbs… followed closely by a burning rage that consumed everything else.

Kiara! Her sister! Kiara!!

            Straightening, Nala let go of Oliver and took a step toward the street. She stopped as Bernard caught her arm and turned toward him, glaring. Meeting her gaze, he tightened his grip.

"Nala… even if you run off… how will you find her?"

For a moment she paused, but only for a moment. She then jerked her arm away and turned… and found herself face-to-face with Simba.

            They faced each other for a few moments, her wide, surprised eyes held by his steely countenance. Then Nala jerked backward, bringing a defensive arm up between herself and the sudden apparition.

"I know where your sister is…"

His murmured words took an instant to sink in, and when they did Nala's hand closed into a fist. She looked at the broken sword around his neck, then back into his eyes. 

"You're the one… that's been killing City Guards… aren't you? If you… if you've gotten my sister involved in your… your… Why don't you just leave? Why'd you have to come to this town?"

His eyes held for a moment, then he looked away. She was too angry to see the pain that was sending cracks through his flinty eyes.

"Scar isn't… this un-chivalrous. He doesn't like cheating like this. The Guards must be acting on their own. If I call Scar's attention to it, he'll make sure they don't do it again."

She heard the remorse in his voice, and her heart softened a little. He was sorry for the trouble he had caused, and wanted to help. She waited for a bit before speaking, allowing the calm to return to her mind.

"You can… get her back?"

Simba nodded. "I can get her back, but Oliver will come with me."

Nala blinked, running that through her head a few times. "O… Oliver? What?"

Simba ignored her confused question and stepped around her, addressing himself to the boy, who had dried his tears by this point and who had been watching the conversation with interest. 

"Oliver, do you still have the nunchaku that your father gave you?"

Oliver's eyes opened wide as he nodded. "How do you know about that?"

Simba waved away the boy's question impatiently "I'll explain it all later. Do you want to protect Kiara? More than anything else?"

Once again the boy nodded, mystified. "Of course… she's my best friend."

Taking the broken sword off of his neck, Simba lightly tapped Oliver on the chest, over his heart, with the end of what was left of the blade. "May your oath join that of your King, and strengthen it. The nunchaku you inherited are called the Guardian Duet, forged to serve the Royal Oath, which is the sword I wield now. Your father's one goal in life was to protect my mother from harm, and he gave his life doing so. Now you will use his weapon in the same pursuit; to protect the one you love. You are the first to join the ranks of my trusted fighters. Go and get the Duet, and we will seek out the girl."

            Oliver listened, open-mouthed. At the end he bowed low and scampered off toward the house. After watching the boy leave, Nala spun around and prodded Simba in the chest, angry again. "What do you think you're doing? You can't get Oliver involved in this! He's just a child, he's never fought before!"

"I can feel the light from his heart… he is one of your sister's 'stars'. I cannot free this city alone… he is the first of many. I can feel them scattered all over the city, and I will find them one by one, until I am able to meet the tyrant Scar on equal terms. Don't worry about the boy, I will not see him die."

His cold reply only dug into Nala's nerves more. 

"How can you be this way? You're treating this like it's some kind of chess game, with you and Scar playing opposite sides! Are the people of this city just pieces in your plan?"

Simba was silent for a long time after this tirade, and when he finally spoke it was barely above a whisper, and the pain had returned.

"What would you have me do? I cannot face this alone."

Before Nala could reply Oliver had returned, the worn nunchaku she had often seen him playing with thrust through his belt. She shook her head.

"How do you even expect him to fight with those old things?"

"When he is fulfilling the oath of protection he has given they will become great weapons, much like my sword does. Come, Oliver."

Simba avoided Nala's eyes as he turned to leave… her words were still burning inside of him. For a moment he considered turning back and telling the boy to stay instead… but Oliver was already by his side, and he could see the conviction in the boy's eyes. How could he now deny the boy a chance to avenge the capture of his friend? No… he would have to tell Nala the whole story when they returned… maybe she would understand then.


End file.
